Raise a Glass to Freedom
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: For a year, Tom Riddle has controlled the country. For a year, the rebels have fought for peace. But now Padma knows that this will be the final stand.:: Rebellion!au


_For the One Character Only Competition (round 2: Write your character in a clear AU situation)_

 _Optional Prompts: navy blue, expensive, exhausted, a kitchen_

 _Word Count: 1446_

* * *

Padma feels exhausted when the sunlight filtering through the window. She isn't surprised. The night before had been spent among the rebels, desperately plotting and planning into the wee hours of the morning.

With a groan, she rubs her eyes, sitting up on the thin, weathered mattress. Her tattered blanket falls, pooling into her lap.

"Everything will be okay," she tells herself as she climbs to her feet. "We're doing the right thing."

No matter how many times she repeats her mantra, her constant reminder, her nerves do not settle.

Padma runs her fingers through her dark hair, snagging on tangle after tangle. She doesn't have a mirror- such luxuries are reserved for the elite, Riddle's favored few- but she can assume she looks like shit. It comes with being a member of the lowest of the low, the scum of the city; it comes with being one of the angry, one the rebels ready to destroy the city brick by brick in order to rip the dictator from his throne.

She shivers and quickly grabs a navy jumper. Like everything else she owns, it's worn out. The yarn has stretched. In some spots, the stitches have broken, and holes litter it here and there. By now, she barely remembers what it's like to have new things.

Things are going to change; they have to. She will see to it, or she will die trying.

…

Harry Potter stands at the front of the small group. Padma feels like a shiver of excitement mixing with icy fear. This is it. This is so much more than just causing chaos and disruption. This is a powder keg about to explode.

Padma stands closer to her sister, sliding her hand into Parvati's. Her twin offers her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Somehow, it does more to calm her nerves than anything else ever could. Parvati has always been her polar opposite. She's wild, brave, fiery, and yet she has always been like a tranquilizer for Padma.

"We've got this," Parvati whispers softly to her.

And though Padma's nerves still feel as though they're on fire, she smiles. Parvati is right, or, at least, Padma believes.

"I won't waste time on useless words," Harry calls, and the crowd falls silent immediately, all eyes on their leader. "We all know why we're here."

"Down with Riddle!" someone from the back calls.

"Bastard!"

"Monster!"

For a moment, the silence is broken as several others abuse the dictator's name. Harry falls silent, and though he waits patiently, Padma can see the irritation in his eyes. She almost laughs. The rebels can be quite rowdy at times. At first, she had hated it. Before the old government had fallen, before she had been thrown into this whirlwind of chaos, she had preferred silence, reading alone by the fireplace, and peaceful evenings. Now, this is just a normal occurrence.

"Not all of us will come back from this," Harry continues when the noise finally dies down.

This sentence changes the atmosphere complete. Padma can feel the tension in the air. None of them are deluded enough to think being part of a great rebellion would be an easy thing. Still, the possibility of death hanging over their heads is enough to make even the strongest people nervous.

"Whatever happens, it's for the good of the land," Harry tells them. "We will not rest until we're free again!"

This is met with cheers from the crowd. Even quiet, reserved Padma claps her hands and lets out a _whoop._

Parvati drapes a hand over Padma's shoulder. "We've got this," she says softly.

"I know."

…

Sneaking into the kitchen at the Riddle Manor isn't difficult with their woman on the inside. Hermione Granger holds the door open, glancing over her shoulder as she motions the small group inside.

Padma slips in, butterflies in her stomach. She wishes she still had Parvati by her side, but her bold sister will be on the front lines. Padma, with her clever mind, has been put in charge of setting up the diversion with Terry, Hermione, and Anthony.

"Good to see you again," Hermione says, taking the lead and guiding them through the kitchen until they reach the pantry. "I've incapacitated the rest of the actual kitchen staff. I had to guess sizes for your uniforms, so I hope it's close enough."

Padma takes a sleek, grey and white dress from the pile. She lets out an impressed whistle. Even Riddle's workers have nicer clothes, more expensive than anything a rebel could dream of owning.

She strips down. There hasn't been time for modesty over the past year. All of them have lived in cramped quarters and have seen one another in various states of undress. The old Padma would have been horrified, but that girl is dead. The new Padma has only one thing to worry about; her only concern is destroying Riddle.

She dresses quickly, smoothing out any creases she finds. Though the plan is to be out before anyone can see them, she can't risk being spotted looking anything less than her best. Riddle is a monster and has executed others for offenses less spectacular than a wrinkled uniform.

"Ready?" Hermione asks, offering Padma a small smile.

Padma doesn't feel ready. Her hands shake, and her stomach feels as if it's been turned to gelatin. Somehow, she manages to keep her head high. "Ready," she confirms, the others echoing her statement.

Hermione nods. "Let's do this."

…

"We have about five minutes to set everything up," Hermione says, nodding at Seamus and Dean who stand in the dining hall, dressed as Riddle's guards. "Staff has to be out before Riddle and his guests arrive. Our dear leader doesn't like being watched by those he feels are beneath him."

"Surprised the idiot likes dining with people at all, then," Anthony mutters. "Doesn't he think he's the greatest person alive?"

Padma snorts, retrieving the explosives from where they're hidden beneath the serving cart. They're low-level explosives, not enough to do any real damage. Padma would have preferred something stronger; that would mean her beloved sister wouldn't have to storm the manor. Still, it's all they have. Materials aren't easy to come by.

As the boys work to set up the table in order to keep up appearances, Padma and Hermione move quickly, placing the devices around the room.

"Three minutes," Dean calls.

Padma swears softly under her breath. The dining hall is so large. It takes several seconds to figure out the ideal locations to hide the explosives. With a sigh, she forces herself to focus. There is no room for discouragement now.

She quickens her pace, sliding the last device in a potted plant near the kitchen entrance.

"One minute," Dean reports.

"Done!" Hermione calls, rushing to the cart.

Anthony and Terry finish up on the table and join her. Padma takes a deep breath and nods. "Done," she says softly before looking at the fake guards. "Will you two be okay."

"Don't worry about us," Seamus assures her. "Just go. We've got this."

Padma nods. She gestures the others with a quick jerk of her head, and the four of them disappear behind the swinging doors.

…

Padma feels infinitely better when she and then others are back on the street. The fresh air caresses her skin and fills her lungs, calming her slightly.

"Think it'll work?" Terry asks as they walk through the alleys, careful to avoid the guards that prowl the streets.

Before Padma can answer, she hears the explosion in the distance. Her stomach churns painfully. In the next five minutes, Parvati and the others will begin what Padma prays is the final fight.

…

Padma sits among the rebels, staring at her glass. Cheers fill the air. Tom Riddle is dead, and they are finally free.

Though she is happy about their victory, there's a hole in her heart that prevents her from joining in the festivities.

 _Not all of us will come back from this._

She never considered the fact that her sister might be one of those people. Hours later, she still can't shake the image of her beloved Parvati, lifeless in Ron Weasley's arms, blood staining the front of her shirt.

Harry takes the platform and begins to speak, but Padma doesn't really listen. His words seem to drift over her, unable to penetrate the barrier of grief that surrounds her.

The war has been won. Padma knows that they still have work to do, that they'll have to rebuild the city and government that Tom Riddle has destroyed. She will be there for that.

But for now, she grieves.


End file.
